His flesh burned through the fine fabric of his slacks, and the muscles tensed and jumped at my touch. It gave me a wicked, illicit thrill to touch him this way, unseen by anyone else. Serenely I sopped up sauce with my bread and chewed it without comment, but under the table I let my fingers wander over his thighs, dipping between them and then back up, as though I were climbing mountains and fording valleys with my hand. Above the table, his eyes showed no emotion other than bliss. His lids were half closed, and he ate with gusto, commenting here and there about various spices he could taste in the sauces.#p#分页标题#e#
Then I slipped my hand up to his groin and his breath hitched in the middle of saying the word turmeric, and I couldn't repress the wicked smile that sliced across my face.
"Sadie," he said, "what are you doing?
I let my hand go still. "Just returning some favors I owe you."
He scowled at that and I wondered if I had misread the situation. His hand on my leg, his thigh pressed against mine... I mean, we'd already been pretty close... didn't he want this?
"You don't owe me any favors," he said. "If you do not want me in the same way, I'd really rather you didn't."
His voice had gone stiff, as stiff as his cock was growing under my palm. I'd messed up somehow.
"That's not what I meant," I said. "You just seemed so happy eating that food, like it was some kind of rare pleasure... I kind of wanted to be the one to put that look on your face." Ugh, it sounded so hokey when it came out of my mouth. Not at all playful the way it sounded in my head.
But he relaxed a bit, and a smile curled the corner of his mouth. "Is that so?" he asked. "Have you ever done anything like this in public?"
I had to think about that. I didn't think private parties counted, and everyone had been doing things and no one noticed because we'd always all been drunk beyond belief... "No," I said.
His hinted smile grew into a real smile at that. "Then let me guide you at it."
I licked my lips. "You've done it?"
"I know what I like," he replied evasively. Propping his elbows on the table, he hid my arm from the view of the rest of the restaurant. "Please, continue."
For some reason, doing it at his direction made it even hotter. I did as he told me, letting my fingers wander up and down, around his crotch and between his legs, feeling the heat growing there. What sort of underwear was he wearing? Boxers? Briefs? The devil wears nada? I wanted to find out, but there was no way for me to draw his cock out into the open without making it completely obvious what I was doing.
"Keep eating," Malcolm reminded me. "Otherwise someone will suspect something is wrong. There's no reason to go wasting a good korma just because you're giving a hand job."
My cheeks flared and I ducked my head, reaching for the bread. I ran into a problem here. How was I supposed to tear the bread with only one hand?
I should have known Malcolm would have the answer for that.
"Turn toward me, just a bit," he said. His voice was remarkably steady, and I wanted to push his boundaries a bit, so did as he bade, and ran my fingers up to his cock again, where I let them stay.
His thick erection burgeoned in his pants, a hard, aching swell against the fabric, and I cupped my hand over it, giving it a little rub. Malcolm let out the tiniest grunt, but just the sound of it made me wet and hot and eager. I glanced around, making sure no one was watching us. The lunchtime crowd had definitely started to fill the place up, and though we were in a corner booth, one would only have to glance over at us, take note of my hand in his lap, and deduce what we were doing.
It was so dangerous. Illegal. How long had it been since I'd done something illegal?
Granted, I was with one of the richest men in the city and riches tend to make legal troubles go away, so even if we were outed there would probably be no repercussions. Except perhaps in the papers or the gossip mills.
His cock felt good against my palm.
I licked my lips as Malcolm tore off a piece of bread for me, but when I extended a hand to take it, he held it just out of my reach.
"Food for favors," he said. "If you do exactly what I say, you'll have the best meal of your life."
I pressed my lips together and let my hand go still. "Okay," I said.
He smiled. "Good. Hike up your skirt."
My breath caught. He was turning the tables on me. I rather thought I might like it. Reaching down, I lifted the hem of my skirt, just as he had done about an hour before, in his bedroom, the precursor to giving me the sweetest head I'd ever received. I shivered at the memory, the echo of pleasure sending hot spears of desire through my body, my pussy growing wet and slick with the thought. As I lifted the skirt past my thighs, Malcolm dipped the piece of bread in sauce and wrapped up a cube of cheese in it. "Open your mouth," he instructed.